Voyeur
by moonlitjune
Summary: Sarah has a feathered visitor outside of her window... PWP. Sarah/Jareth.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing, am making no money. Don't sue! ;)

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><p><strong>Voyeur<strong>

Chapter 1

Sarah didn't know when this game had begun. She traced the seam of her lips, breath tickling a long the side of her fingers. Ghosting them across her cheeks, and down the line of her jaw, she thought of another's touch. The moon illuminated her face, making her skin seem even paler in the soft light.

A 23 year-old Sarah Williams reclined in an overstuffed chaise situated in front of the window of her apartment. After graduating from college with her acting degree (with a minor in literature) she had moved to this flat in London, and began her life as an adult. She was acting off and on, which she was proud of. She was a fairly logical person, and knew that she would have to work from the bottom and move up. So far, the odd commercial and some smaller plays were satisfying her. She was working part time as a waitress and part time in a small library, both jobs offering her a flexibility to work around her acting schedule.

She had friends, enjoyed London and all it's diversions, but was still intrinsically Sarah. So, immediately upon moving in to the flat she had found the comfiest chaise lounge in existence, set it up next to the window, and created her perfect reading nook. The table to the side, lamp unlit, was stacked high with books. Not all, but a fair number of them were fantasy, and Sarah loved loosing herself in the magic, romance, and adventure found on the pages.

Some part of this game had begun only a few nights ago. She had gotten home from the library, a new book in her hands exciting her, and had promptly fallen in to her chair, soon engrossed in its pages. A passage had triggered her memories, her mind unfocused, and she found herself dwelling on her own adventures. The sun set as she dwelled on a pair of mismatched eyes and promises she had been too young to fully comprehend.

Realizing she now sat in relative darkness, she shook off her thoughts, putting the book aside. Leaning forward to pull herself up, she glimpsed something bright outside in the darkness. There was a tree in front of her window, which she loved. It's part of what had sold her on this flat, looking out at the leaves and limbs of the oak made the industrial look of London fade away.

Within the limbs of the tree, a pale form was visible, tucked back and slightly hidden by the night's shadows. Two eyes, glowing white in reflection, stood out starkly against what was obviously a white owl.

Sarah froze. Electricity seemed to run through her veins, fueled by her suddenly racing heart. It wasn't possible…

_It 's just an owl, in the middle of London, staring in to my flat._

Lost in a haze of panic and doubt, Sarah perched on the edge of the lounge, and stared back. Her eyes met those of the owl, and she drank in the sight of it. It stood not 15 feet away, huddled near the trunk of the tree, white wings gracefully tucked at its sides.

Nothing happened. Neither Sarah nor the bird so much as twitched, eyes locked. After a time, the owl unfurled its wings slowly, and took off in to the night air. Sarah watched it for as long as she could, but as it receded in to the distance, it seemed to become enveloped by the darkness, vanishing quickly.

Sarah stood sharply, confused in thought, and retreated in to the depths of her flat.

Throughout the next day, she wavered back and forth_. It was him… Oh my God, it was him! But, no, stop being so self-centered. Of course it wasn't him. It was just an owl. Most owls aren't fae kings, Sarah._

That afternoon, she stayed away from the window. Somehow, in her brain, whither or not it was actually the Goblin King had narrowed to if the owl was back tonight. If he was back, it was the Goblin King. If not, it was just a random owl.

She cooked, cleaned, straightened, dusted, and pretty much did anything she could think of to stay away from looking outside. The sun set, warm orange light filtering through the leaves of the tree and in to her apartment. As twilight fell, Sarah sat at the foot of her bed, trying to calm herself down. _This is ridiculous, grow a backbone, girl_.

Not looking, Sarah walked to and sat in her chaise, and began determinately reading her book. Time passed, and she still didn't look, the book helping distract her from the glaring expanse of window in front of her. Darkness fell, and Sarah lit her lamp, noticing out of the corner of her eye that the reflection on the glass masked the outside world. Still, stubbornly, she read.

Later and later it grew, until she knew she had no choice. With the light on she rose, setting the book down and facing the window. Staring out, she reached out with one hand and clicked off the lamp.

Shrouded in darkness, Sarah stared at the white owl that stared back, reflective eyes glowing.

Fairly quickly, the owl unfurled its wings and repeated its disappearing act from the night before.

Time seemed to change for Sarah, as if she was in the Labyrinth. Sometimes it passed slowly, as if clocks ticked away 13 hours instead of 12, and yet she also lost large swaths of time, immersed in numb thought, until she looked up and realized hours had passed. The day elapsed confusingly.

That night, Sarah had plans. It wasn't much, just a night out with a few friends, pizza and a movie. If they noticed she was unusually quiet, they didn't press her much. Laughter and voices floated around her, and she listened, but felt disconnected. Liam, a casual friend whose eyes seemed to linger on her longer than she would like, would lean to her and whisper, trying to include her in what was going on around her. She barely noticed him.

Entering her flat, leaving the lights off, tossing keys, purse, jacket, and shoes haphazardly, she moved to the window.

A snowy white owl gazed lazily, eyes half-lidded.

Sinking down, one creamy leg stretched out, the other knee bent, leg tucked tight to her body below her chin, still modest only because the length of her skirt flowed around the tops of her thighs, she looked. She was casual, belying her inner tumultuousness, and contemplated the creature looking back at her.

It was an owl. It shouldn't cause her pulse to race. It shouldn't steal her breath. It shouldn't turn her whole world upside down. It also shouldn't excite her. Her body felt like it was on fire, as if the glowing eyes looking at her could burn her skin and nerves. She absorbed it all, the knowledge that even the possibility this may be him turned on every synapse in her body, good and bad. She was electric, sitting calmly, staring at an animal that may or may not be a fae with wispy hair that caught the wind, eyes a clear sea blue, and the ruler of a land that she found in her dreams.

She wanted it to be him.

Sarah absently trailed her fingers up and down the thigh tucked against her body. The owl blinked, eyes seemingly following the path of her fingers. Suddenly, Sarah became aware of how much leg she was showing, and how slouching down to rest her chin on her knee allowed an impressive amount of cleavage to show. Still, she didn't move. She just spent an indefinable amount of time gazing in to the eyes roaming over her.

The next morning she found a feather on her doorstep. That day, it almost never left her fingers.

That night, dressed in pajamas that consisted of short shorts and a tight tank top, she didn't sit. She stood, inches away from the window, nipples hard from the cold seeping through the single pane, thighs clenched and stomach tense, and she boldly gazed at the snowy owl perched in front of her.

She wanted him to understand that she saw him, and that she wanted him there.

Which was a little crazy, she knew that. This was a faerie king. She had beaten him at his own game, boasted at him, whined at him, and denied him. She had no idea what his intentions were. He could be plotting revenge, angry with her for his defeat.

And yet, she chose the gamble. He could be planning all sorts of evil, or he could not, and she wasn't going to let fear of being hurt stop her from pursuing her fantasy. She felt this was a moment of transition. Ignore the owl as just an owl and continue her everyday life, or believe in the dream and fall down the rabbit-hole.

_Wonderland, any day._

Heart pounding, Sarah took the feather in her fingers, and lifted it to her cheek. Slowly, she ran the smooth but rigid tip of it down her cheekbone, opening her mouth as it grazed along the pad of her lip. Closing her eyes, she thought of that elusive, graceful king. She pictured him sitting in that tree, one knee cockily raised, torso casually leaning against the trunk, lightning sharp gaze trained on the path of the feather. She trailed the feather down her throat, and down, down, between her breasts and stopping at her navel where her other hand rested. Trailing the feather up the other bare arm, feeling its silkiness in every nerve, shivering from the sensitivity. When it finished it path, Sarah's breath shallow, feather pressed against her open lips, she opened her eyes.

The snowy owl gazed back.

_This is insane._

So wrapped in her vision, the start reality of a bird staring back at her broke her will. Unsure of everything, Sarah fled.

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><p>AN: So, this is mostly completed, and is only a few chapters long. So, expect updates soon!<p>

Authors work for reviews... ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The dawn rose, pale pink and yellow light piercing the grey, and Sarah had not slept. Her doubts and hopes swirled in her consciousness, chasing sleep away. Thankful for a day off, she sluggishly drew a bath. The water washed away the tense sweat, heat relaxing her muscles. Emerging from the bathroom, her bed seemed to finally welcome her, and she fell deeply asleep.

It was the sharp light of late afternoon that greeted her when she awoke. Instantly awake, all of the events that led to this flooded her brain. One thing in particular had surfaced in her subconscious dreams, and she dwelt on Jareth's words…

"_Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave…"_

Possession. There was no doubt that possession was at the core of those words. They implied a desire to own her, to dominate and control her. She had always scoffed at that. _Do as you say? Yeah, right._

But being older, and slightly wiser, at this moment Sarah focused on the latter half. _…and I will be your slave. _All of her tension, which was, yes, sexual, focused on this idea. She finally realized that the implied possessiveness wasn't one-sided. That if she had given herself, she would have received him in return. Yes, she did fear him a bit, but not a lot, just enough to keep her on her toes. She knew he would never be predictable, whither as a foe or a lover.

But all of theses thoughts were precipitous. Right now, she had a white owl, who may or may not be the Goblin King, that liked to sit in front of her window. It wasn't much to go on. But it was enough. She would simply see where things led.

Deciding on continuing her lazy day, a while later found her wrapped in a fluffy robe, tea steaming on the table, book on her knees while she lounged in the chaise. Soft evening light descended in to night, and Sarah's book descended in to lascivious territory. The heroine's legs were parting, the hero sliding down her body to worship her, when Sarah felt the days of tension catch up to her. Suddenly, Sarah recognized the burn she had been feeling for some time. Clenching her thighs together, she felt the slickness that heralded her arousal. She knew she had been building to this for days, hoping for that striking man to truly be lurking outside her window.

It hadn't been too long after running the labyrinth that Sarah felt the attraction. She dwelled on her adventure so much, thinking things over and over, and she found herself remembering the smell of him as he leaned close and whispered, "It's further than you think." She remembered the form of him, silhouetted against the Escher-like room, as he sang. She remembered the curl of his lips as he spun her in that dress, and those ridiculously sensual eyes. Yes, for a long while now, Sarah had looked back on him with lust, fingers dancing a rhythm against herself, exploding at the thought of his touch.

Without thought, Sarah's fingers trailed to lie against her mound, blocked by the robe from reaching further. Looking out the window, soft moonlight illuminated the tree and the emptiness of its branches. Her fingers found the seam of the cloth, and slid underneath, searching. Unerringly, she lightly touched that bundle of nerves, caught her breath at the perfect sensation, and fell in to her fantasies.

Slowly, achingly, her finger moved in a slow circle. Sarah tried to distract her self from the sensation in her finger, wishing it was his and trying to pretend. Moments passed, and Sarah thought of his lips on hers, and moaned softly. The sound made her open her eyes.

The snowy white owl gazed back.

Her fingers stilled, blush creeping up her cheeks, and Sarah sat frozen, heart pounding. She was still mostly covered, hand hiding any skin that may have been visible. Still, there was no doubt of what she had been doing. If this was Jareth, and Sarah believed it was, then he was witnessing something intensely personal. For a bit she stayed frozen, but then scooted forward in order to stand.

The friction caused the ache at the apex of her thighs to increase, and she paused. Perched on the edge of her lounge, Sarah looked at the bird, and thought. And decided to do something about everything.

She wanted him. _Time to let him know that._

She spread her legs. The action caused the bottom of the robe to gape open, exposing everything. Moonlight caressed the pale skin of her flesh, and as one hand resumed it's task below, the other rose to her face. Her passion reignited, she let her sensuality free, caressing her face, trailing fingers across her lips, palm sliding down her throat.

Taking both hands, she began to untie the robe. One hand slipping in to feel the warm skin of her breast, the other pulling the sides of the robe open, baring her whole body to the cool light. She knew he could see everything, every crevice, curve and mound of her body, and she basked in the moonlight. She didn't look at the owl, choosing to think about Jareth himself, and what she wanted him to do to her. Hands ghosting up her waist, circling her breasts, one reaching further to entangle in her hair, she caressed herself. Nipples peaked; she slid that hand down her stomach, muscles tensing at the sensation, and dipped in to her sex.

The days of frustration, the years of wanting him, the excitement of him sitting right there in front of her, and her expert touch took her quickly to a point of breathless gasping. Fingers firmly moving over her clit, one hand gripping a breast, offering it out to him, she thought of Jareth moving over her, crying out her name. A roiling, churning, lightning sensation starting at her center, and electrifying every bit of her, mind numbing in bliss, overtook everything and she cried out his name.

When she could stand the thought of it, she opened her eyes. An empty tree, illuminated by the moon, sat in front of her.

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><p>AN: Hehe. More to come...<p>

Could you imagine if it made the owl just an owl? lol.

Authors work for reviews! Please and thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: Explicit lemons. Hopefully, that's what you are here for. If not, why the hell are you still reading this?

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><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

Riding the wave of endorphins, Sarah stared at the empty tree in front of her. _He's gone. Why is he gone? When did he go? Oh my god, what have I done? He must be disgusted._

Feeling the cold for the first time, Sarah folded the robe around herself. Trembling, robe doing little to deal with the chill in her breast, she pulled her legs up on the chaise and pushed back, intending to just lay back in the lounge and feel miserable.

And encountered a wall of flesh.

When lithe, pale arms wrapped around her, Sarah couldn't help it, she screamed and lashed out. Arms coming up, elbows thrusting back, she heard and felt a meaty thud.

A male voice yelled, "Fucking hell!"

Scrambling around, she caught the impression of wispy blonde hair, and realized who sat back against her lounge. _It's him!_ He had one graceful hand lying on his chest, which was remarkably bare, presumably where she had elbowed him. Aqua blue eyes regarded her, mismatched irises almost balanced in the soft light. His face showed no emotion, still features seeming so unearthly, and his body seemed tense, as if poised to flee.

The second she really took in who was before her, she exclaimed "Jareth!" and wished her voice seemed less breathy as she said it. Clutching the lapels of her robe together, Sarah tried to remember she was a strong independent woman, and had no reason to be afraid.

_Except you just did something. Something that crossed a line…_

Remembering what she had just finished, Sarah blushed. She watched his eyes on her cheeks, taking in the rush of her blood, and his face seemed to melt in to a grin. It was almost feral.

"Hello Sarah." His voice was strong, rich, and melodic, and it had become so deeply ingrained in her fantasies that hearing it was jarring.

Sarah couldn't think. "Jareth… Jareth you're… here!"

He quirked a brow at her, "Well spotted."

His wit seemed to shake her, and she frowned. "Inside my flat! Where did you come from? I saw no billowing curtains or showers of glitter."

His whole body changed, going from tense to arrogantly self-assured, and he draped his arms across the back of the chair, dramatically casual. His pale chest was visible, and she noticed a small trail of blonde hair that started a bit below his belly button, and ended somewhere below extremely low slung, and gloriously tight, grey leather pants. "Your expectations, nothing more. I decided not to waste my time."

Brow pinched, she looked hard at him. "Oh yes, of course, make yourself at home."

His face lost a little of its cockiness, it seemed to turn serious and also… sensual. He leaned his body forward, placed a hand on either side of her legs, and brought his face close to hers.

"Sarah, you just came, gasping my name." His eyes were soft. "I didn't think about knocking."

The frown was long gone from her face, and she felt all her muscles go slack. They seemed simultaneously numb and tingly, and she knew her heart was starting its journey back up to desperate pounding.

"And what a glorious display it was." His eye's never wavered from her face, watching her like the bird of prey he was. One hand reached for the robe she had long since stopped clutching, and slowly pealed it aside, first the right and then the left side, exposing her full breasts, creamy in the moonlight.

When he touched her stomach, she trembled. His voice hypnotized her. "So beautiful. I couldn't look away, couldn't stop from coming here every night, just to see you. But I could never have imagined…"

His voice trailing away, his gaze shifted lower, and he pulled away the rest of the robe. He trailed a finger along her inner thighs where they were pressed together. "Sarah…" His voice was a caress.

"Yes?" Her voice was barely more than a gasp.

He met her eyes again, and they burned, lighting a fire in them both. "Show me. Show me again. I want to watch you up close." His voice was velvet.

The enormity of what she was about to do did clear the fog in her brain for a moment. She looked in him the eyes; he looked hungry, desperate. He licked his lips.

She didn't pause. She wanted to give him everything, so she would give him this. Lying down against the foot of the chaise, she barely fit, head almost falling off. It helped her nerve; she couldn't see him at all. Eyes closed, she brought her hands up to her breasts, feeling the fullness and weight in her hands, and she gripped her nipples lightly.

For all that she had just finished doing this, her body sang. He was right there. She felt his thigh resting against hers and could hear his shallow breath. This was a thousand times more intimate and thrilling than what she had just done. She trembled a bit as she lifted one leg over his, moving the other out to spread her legs. His breathing seemed to quicken.

When her fingers trailed down her body and between the valley of her thighs, she wished she could see him. Again, at that first touch to her bundle of nerves, she shuddered and marveled at the intensity of sensation.

When she felt him touch her knee, she started. Not wanting him to stop, she continued, wondering what he would do next. He seemed content to run his fingers over her skin in small circles, until his hand began a lazy trek up her inner thigh. Sarah barely breathed.

"Do you want this, my Sarah?" his voice hitched.

He was moving a finger at the seam of her thigh and pelvis, and she wondered if it was possible to die of lust. It was all of her consciousness and every bit of her logic that gasped, "Please, yes."

Thin, nimble fingers stroked the seam of her lips, and when she felt one finally slip between her slick flesh and enter her, she let go and moaned. It was a desperate, keen of a moan, and she felt a second finger enter her. When his thumb began light, tantalizing movements over her clit, Sarah lost her patience and moaned, "Jareth."

His fingers left her like lightning, and she was jerked up by her arms into a sitting position, legs still splayed wide across the cushion. Their faces came close to colliding, but he laced his fingers in to her hair, holding her face inches from his. His eyes were like a caress, the smell of him like summer and rain, and his thin lips looked full and perfect in the moonlight.

When their lips connected, Sarah lost herself. It was as if a dam had been released for both of them, and suddenly, nothing was enough. Their mouths clashed and melted and joined a thousand times, hands explored flesh, and she scooted closer to him, until he boldly gripped her waist and lifted her on to his lap.

His fingers danced a long her skin, trailing a path upwards. His palms ghosting over the tips of her breasts caused her to gasp for air. When he took them in to his hands fully, she looked him in the eye. He looked wild and undone, and she kissed him hard.

Time moved slowly and quickly, without reason or logic, and they pressed themselves together. Neither seemed rushed as they worshiped the other. She discovered the laces on his trousers came apart easily. He finally peeled the robe off her arms, and gripped the soft curve of her butt, crushing them closer.

They both reached a point when more was necessary when he had his fingers buried deep within her, and she had hers wrapped around the hard length of him. The chaise became awkward then, not quite long or wide enough to make things easy. Hitching her legs around his waist, he laid her back gently, making sure she stayed stable on the cushion.

Sarah looked up in to his eyes, traced the strong ling of his cheek, and felt her heart expand. He looked different that she remembered, missing all the capes and glitter, and he looked… perfect. He was otherworldly and exceptional; eyebrows pointed sharply upward and flyaway hair tickling her face, but no longer menacing and cruel. She could touch him, and she did, feeling his soft skin against hers.

His eyes locked on hers, a sweet smile on his face, and he simultaneously kissed her and entered her with his fingers. She writhed on his hands, desperate and wanton, and pressed her breasts up in to his chest.

"I've watched you Sarah, and wanted you. You… you are a match for me, Sarah."

Slowly building in tension, all she could think about was how much she wanted him. She brushed his hand away, gripping him firmly, and pulling him in to position. The tip of his length brushed her clit, making her cry out, and Jareth took control. She felt the piercing fullness as he penetrated her, thickness stretching her, shivers of sensation dancing through her body.

There was no comparison, all soft touches and questing fingers could never compare to this joining, this complete meshing of bodies. He moved within her, their foreheads touching, breaths gasping together. His hands cradled her head, and at every delicious hitch of his hips, she moaned.

Soon, he was on his hands towering over her, pelvis checking harder against hers, and they were spiraling higher, tension close to snapping. She watched him above her, the definition of her fantasies, slowly loosing control. His teeth were bared, body laboring, harsh guttural moans escaping him when he couldn't contain them. She watched him as she ignited, body keening, muscles clenching, electric sensation running through her veins, mind becoming still in pure ecstasy. She watched him cry out, face tilted upward, beautiful in the moonlight as he came.

He lay down on top of her, gripping her tight as deep shuddering breaths escaped them both. When they both breathed a little more normal he pulled them both up, wrapping his arms around her, moving them both in to the softness of the chaise's back. They seemed content to merely breathe and feel the others skin.

His voice broke the still peace. "I have a proposition."

She looked up at him and her eyebrow quirked, "That's dangerous territory with you."

He smiled, "I may have been… strict with my terms last time we met."

She laughed, and looked him in the eye. "Strict is an interesting way to put it."

Smirk gracing his features, he said nothing, just watched her mirth and laughed with her.

She stilled, saw the seriousness lurking beneath his smile, and asked, "What's the proposition?"

He lost his smile then, looking pensive. His brow pinched together as he thought, until he finally looked at her. "Never fear me. Don't do as I say. Just… just love me." His softened, bringing his hand to her cheek and caressing her, "I have always been your slave."

Her heart had jump-started, pounding furiously at his words, and she stopped the hand at her cheek with her own. Holding him there, she turned her face toward his palm and stroked it with her lips.

She whispered, "I accept." He looked at her, and smiled then, taking in the subtext of her words. The arm around her waist tightened and pulled her tight against him, lips meeting with gentle passion. They were slow and languid, content to touch lightly and kiss trails in exploration.

As he licked a circle behind her ear, she said softly, "Oh Jareth, by the way, stop stalking me outside my window."

His breathy laugh tickled her ear, "You were hardly discouraging, my dear."

She laughed with him, "But if you knock and come in, I might kiss you."

"An adequate exchange."

A while later when caresses became more purposeful and her blood was back to boiling, Sarah thought of something and said, "Jareth, if you ask nicely, sometimes I might pretend to fear you, do as you say, and be _your_ slave."

His lips moved from her nipple as he looked up, eyes dark and burning. "That sounds delicious."

She smiled, "Are you gonna offer me the same?"

He quirked a brow, kissed her breast and said, "Nope."

An indignant breath escaped her, "That's not fair."

He laughed then, an outright belly laugh that shook his whole body. When he could, he looked at her and said, "How I've missed you."

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><p>The End.<p>

Authors work for reviews only! Let me know your thoughts. :)


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